Dove's Nocturne
by The Scarlet Sky
Summary: It's a beautiful paradise, but there's no such thing as paradise. And a power stronger than the jaws of jealousy is about to swallow Mineral Town whole...demanding a sacrifice no one is about to give. T for violence and slight horror.
1. Chapter 1: The Ghost Arc: Pt 1

_**Note**_: If any of you are reading this, I'm honored because one, I've been a bad absent fanfic writer, and two, Harvest Moon and horror/supernatural isn't a popular combo. But having been persuaded by the boyfriend, and watching one too many episodes of Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni, I realize I want to explore the supernatural and horror genres. This idea has been stewing for a good month, rewritten over and over, and now I can safely say I like where the story is headed.

So, without further ado, I would like to introduce you to the first part of the first arc of my fic:

DOVE'S NOCTURNE

"**When one creates phantoms for oneself, one puts vampires into the world, and one must nourish these children of a voluntary nightmare with one's blood, one's life, one's intelligence, and one's reason, without ever satisfying them."**

_--Eliphas Levi_

* * *

Her breathing starts out slow, like the beginning of a love song. She shuts her eyes and the room disappears, transforming into a world where footsteps don't follow you and tomorrow's always sunny. She's shuddering. She knows she shouldn't be.

_What a pure, perfect body. _

Eyes snap open. She's facing that old mirror once again, and ocean eyes stare back at her, eyes that once sparkled with life. Now they're hollow. They shouldn't be. Behind her there's nothing, just mocking shadows. Still, she keeps turning behind her, breath caught in her throat. No one stands there. Just that pale, lanky woman in the mirror. Where's the blood in this white body? Why are only those trembling lips blood red? She's the same girl she was yesterday.

…She should be.

_What a disgustingly perfect body. Like a doll._

There's nothing behind her, nothing beside her. Big blue eyes dart back and forth—no, just her in the mirror, but it's not her, because in that mirror her hands are moving. She's the same girl she was yesterday, smiling and laughing with her hands by her sides…or clasped before her…but never clasped about her—

_Let's play a game, little doll._

The scream dies as those long, perfect fingers wrap about her throat. The woman in the mirror is smiling, laughing, her hands by her sides as they should be. The girl in the room crumples to the floor, face as blue as eyes brimming with tears.

_Oh, my poor little dolly. Did I drop you?_

* * *

**The **_Ghost _**Arc:**_  
_**JACK'S** TALE

_Part One_

_

* * *

_

I don't know if I believe in fate. At the same time, I can tell you I believe in luck, and I can tell you that Mineral Town has showered with me it since my arrival. Maybe not the kind of luck you always think of—like winning the lottery, or something—but you've probably never known small town living. "Man, you're in for hell," some told me, but they haven't woken up to dawn over rolling hills or a breakfast of freshly squeezed milk. "If this is hell," I'd laughed back, "sign me up for damnation."

"You got yourself situated?" my assistant asks, and I turn to see Ann stretching her arms. "I swear, you city boys and your junk."

"You know you love me."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll love not having to clean up after you anymore." After rooming at the Inn for a good week, the innkeeper's daughter had become all too familiar with my messy habits and laundry. I can still hear the scream from the first cleaning day—"_Good Goddess, he's an animal! A filthy piggish animal!" _Luckily, even animals have their uses, and Ann had learned she could shove a broom or two on this particular pig. "So. Nice place you got here, huh?"

I snort. "Sort of?"

"You've got four walls, a bed, a kitchen, and…y'know, a giant mound of dirt that could almost be a field. Pretty nice, all things considered."

"Uh huh. Sure."

"…Maybe?"

I start to shove my clothes into drawers and ignore her. "Where did you put my boxers?"

"Oh for Goddess's sake, I tried to block those from my memory…"

I squint at the sunlight pouring in from the window. Ann's kinda right, it's not such a bad place. Mahogany furniture, nice wood floors, and could there be anything softer than this bed? Sure, the kitchen ware leaves a little something to be desired, but… "Oh, hey." I stand up and tilt my head; yes, there's something in the corner, definitely. Something shiny, reflective. "Ann, could you tell me--?"

Boxers slap me in the face. "Found them," she chirps.

"Never. Mind." Deadpan, I yank the stupid thing from my face and hurl it into the drawer as Ann falls onto the floor giggling in delight. Typical. "How old are we? Five?"

"Y-you, you're just so _fun_ to tease, honestly! So easy to make the city boy puff up." I roll my eyes, and she skips over, pinching my cheek. "You know you love me," she mimics me, and I swat her away as she begins giggling again. "Oh, come on, Jack—"

I return to that corner, and the light blinds me again. Hand covering my eyes, I stumble forward and reach for something cold, metallic—"Holy shit!" My shriek echoes off the walls and drags a terrified Ann to my side. Something's wrong in both our voices, broken. I can hear our heartbeats synchronizing: _thump_…_thump_…_thumpthumpthump—_!

"What the hell, Jack?!" Ann screams into my ear. "What was that for?" She points with a single finger before us. "You want me to have a heart attack and die over a _mirror_?"

It's true. It's just a mirror. Ann's reflection looks just as ready to kill me as her face does up close, and, sweating, I try to offer her a smile. "Er. It looked like someone was there, is all."

"Did he happen to look like an idiot in a baseball cap?"

"Well, actually—"

"City boys!" Ann yanks my hat down over my eyes. "Blind, all of you! Blind and senseless."

I adjust my cap as she stomps over to my boxes to continue unpacking. Her arms are still trembling. In fact, her whole body is shaking. I swallow and try to pretend I don't want to steady her. "Hey, uh."

Her head snaps up to look at me. "What?"

"Sorry."

"That all?"

"Yeah."

She turns away again. "Great."

"Yep." I cough.

"What?"

"You could, uh, say something to me now."

"Like I forgive you?" For the final time, Ann swerves to face me. Those blue eyes harden on me for just a moment, and the whole room goes still before she begins to laugh. It sounds inappropriate, almost. Off-key and tasteless. "You're funny, you know that, Jack? Funny as hell."

* * *

Gray pisses me off. Maybe he shouldn't, but the blacksmith gets on my nerves in a way very few people can. Quiet people. Grumpy people. "You want another round?" I ask him when Ann comes by, and he grunts again, a broken record. "Damn, with that kind of eloquence the ladies must love you."

"Not everyone listens to boys who cry wolf," the waitress quips, and is it my imagination, or does Ann knock the pepper onto my lap on purpose? "Excuse me, I'll go get a napkin to clean that right up."

"And what I find funny is that he's the one insulting _my_ charm and appeal," Gray says with a smirk. I just could smack him right now. I really could. At the same time, I'm not willing to engage in any fistfight with a guy who handles hammers all day long.

My salvation comes in the form of a purple bandana and a melodic laugh: Kai saunters into the Inn and plops himself beside us both with his cocky signature smile. "Hey boys, how's the evening? Still young, I hope?" I know it's a cliché, but I swear, that boy's eyes twinkle.

"If that rascal over there has any more drinks, probably not," Ann interjects, who has reappeared with a napkin and the same smirk I saw Gray wearing a while ago. "Jack, I swear, you are just the _messiest_ boy. Pepper? Really?"

"What! But you're the one who—"

"Blaming a girl. Nice," Gray comments. "Bet that nets you all sorts of women."

"Oh, go to hell!" I look to Kai for assistance and he just smiles.

"Not your day, eh, bro?"

"Understatement," I respond. "I've gotten two people pissed at me at once."

A clink of silverware on the table, and Ann curtly responds, "Maybe you shouldn't give us reasons to be." Gray nods. I wonder if they're exchanging notes under the table, theorizing ways to demonize me more. "Drink, Kai?"

"Wine's fine," the cook says easily. He looks at me and grins. "Eh, it's all sour grapes until you turn it into wine, my friend. Drink it up."

"I hate you all."

They all laugh. Even Gray, the morose lump of misery we've all come to know and (almost) love. "Get another drink for my friend, too," Kai throws in.

Ann hesitates. "Well…"

"I'll walk him out if he's a little unstable," the traveler assures her. I open my mouth to protest—I was a frat boy once, and my stomach wasn't called iron for nothing—but Kai shakes his head at me.

"I don't like this, but okay." The redhead sighs and slings over two bottles for our drinking pleasure. "If you kill yourself blame Kai, not me."

"I've got no skeletons in my closet, lady," Kai laughs. "But hey, I could shelter one if needed. There's room enough."

"I'm not going to die over a stupid bottle of wine!"

The waitress ruffles my hair affectionately. "Which is a true shame, Jack. Imagine how much quieter our life would be without you."

Glaring at her, I guzzle the whole sucker down just to spite her.

That's when the room gets a little bit fuzzy.

* * *

"Man, you gotta lose some weight. I can't do this every night." Kai's lilting laughter brings me to reality and I duck my head in shame. My frat days are long over and whatever happened in the Inn, I couldn't tell you now. But my head hurts like a real sick mofo. "You're a real piece of work, eh?"

"Where are we going?" I groan.

"Somewhere far away from kitchen tables. You hit your head pretty bad, bro."

I lick my lips and taste a little bit of blood. "Damn Ann."

"You'd probably be stuck in hell with her, so be careful 'bout wishing that." The little farm comes into view, and Kai dumps me in front of the door with no ceremony at all. "You got the keys, man?"

I fumble about my pockets. "Yeah."

"See you later. Don't do anything stupid tomorrow, my friend."

"I'll see what I can do." The bandana'd silhouette slowly tapers off into the distance, and I wipe my face. Gah, sweat. Gross. The keys slip and slide in my hands and I accidentally use the wrong one before I get the door unlocked. The room's a pit of darkness when I creep in, and the door slams behind me loud enough to wake the dead. I blame my nerves on the alcohol. My hands peel off my shirt and begin to unbutton my overalls when another loud sound assaults my ears. "Shit." I try to ignore it, but the sound intensifies, and I can't pretend that someone isn't knocking on my door. "Alright, hold on, hold on." I shuffle my overalls back on and open the door wide. "Yeah?"

"Hello. You're Jack, right?" And I don't know if it's the alcohol, I'm sleepwalking, or what, but some gorgeous blonde girl is standing at my door, smiling at me like the very angel of heaven. "Nice to meet you. I'm Claire."


	2. Chapter 2: The Ghost Arc: Pt 2

**Note**: Thanks everyone for the support! I'm hoping this story doesn't die, especially since I've got such wondrous plans for it, so your reviews certainly help me plod along. If I update every week, then I only have a few to knock out before _summer_ comes along! Woooo! And well know summer is an excuse to write fanfic. Thanks again, and enjoy.

DOVE'S NOCTURNE

"**If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?"  
--**Lewis Carroll, _Alice in Wonderland_

**

* * *

**

**The **_Ghost _**Arc:  
JACK'S **TALE

_Part Two_

_

* * *

_Claire just might be the best playboy bunny I've never met. Now, granted, I'm tipsy so I'm probably a little off, but my gaze keeps wandering from her startling blue eyes downward to where her curves wind like an inviting road. Those overalls don't cover all, let me tell you.

"I'm afraid I have a favor to ask you." Her painted fingers play with silky blonde hair, and I can't shake the thought that it's a shame my fingers aren't playing with it, too. I'm kind of hoping that's what she needs help with. "Would you be so kind as to help me out?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah." I stumble into the moonlight and try not to look stupid and stoned. I don't think it's working. "Shoot."

She purses her lips—full, gorgeous things, plump and red. "You own this farm now, correct?"

"Yeah. That's me." I smile like an idiot. Despite all the laws of the world that should decree otherwise, she smiles back.

"It's nice, isn't it? I always did love it." She leans on the wall of the house and I swallow a bit as her body turns with the slow movement. "I lived here, once."

"No kidding?" Nice hips. Great hips, actually. And killer legs.

"Mhm. I bought the farm, just like you. That's why I'm here." She rolls her head towards me and smiles. "I left a few things when I moved out. Well, one thing."

"Oh?" Screw it, I'm not even pretending to look at her face, that's how messed up I am right now. In my defense, she's totally worth looking at, and is actually not slapping me in the face. The instant she does, I'll stop, I swear. In fact, right now, I'll be a gentleman and quit staring. Right…now.

"Something very minor. Nothing big." Her voice is nice, too. Kind of sweet and pleasant on the ears. She looks skyward and the moonlight reflects in her eyes. For a moment, I notice they're rather dull. Her eyes, I mean. Then she blinks and once again I'm entranced by those beautiful blues. She laughs. "I had a little diary."

The cuteness of that melts me. Girls still write about their lives in little pink books? Seriously? Immediately I feel like a sleazeball because I want to read it. "You want to go in and find it with me?" I ask, and immediately she shakes her head.

"Oh, no. I don't remember where I left it, actually. " She laughs again. "I, uh, sort of want that back. It's private."

"Private? Right. Gotcha."

"You wouldn't read it, right?"

_Heh, I totally would. _"Of course no—"

"_Right_?" Ice slices into my soul and I blink, wondering why we're suddenly swallowed in darkness. Then my ears pick up on the sound: the wind, something that has been absent all this time, is howling. Claire's golden hair swirls about her and everything beautiful about her—those eyes, those supple legs, those juicy lips, and that smooth, smooth skin—suddenly begins to go cold. I can't even…explain it. Everything that I've wanted to embrace now seems of stone, as if all the warmth has gone out of her body. And yet, a fire has lit in those eyes, something monstrous and—

I'm remembering the last time a girl hit me. She'd slapped me hard, actually; blood trickled down the side of my jaw. "_You son of a bitch!_" she'd screamed. "_No one's ever going to love you, and it's because, no matter what you say, you're just a child! A stupid, selfish child!_" Same old story, but not the same old ending. Unexpectedly, it'd hurt. I'd…cried, when she left.

"Oh, of course you wouldn't." Her features soften and I blink, wondering what the hell is up with me tonight. "You're a sweet boy, aren't you?" Her hand reaches forward to cup my cheek. My whole body goes numb as her head tilts towards mine, and those red lips come dangerously close to my own. "You'll help me out," she breathes into my ear. "Won't you?"

I'm lucid dreaming. Right now. That's the only explanation for the fact that her fingers are on my chest, stroking me softly with nails sharp as blades. "Will you go get dinner with me afterwards?" I blurt out. She hesitates. It's a stupid request, but I have to do it. If it's a dream, she'll agree, and if it's not, she'll turn me down. That's how the real world works, and I…need to know I'm awake.

"Oh, baby, you don't want me." She smirks a bit and laughs. Eerily, I'm reminded of Ann earlier. _That_ kind of laugh. The kind where it's not funny, or you just don't get the joke. Maybe because you are the joke. "The diary, please?"

It's real, then—and this knowledge only makes my heart sink more. "Yeah. I'll go get that." I raise an eyebrow and look to the east. "It's almost morning, do you want to go inside or—?"

"Shit." She tenses and pulls away from me like a snake. "My boat's going soon." She rubs her neck gingerly and looks over her shoulder. "Alright, how about this. I'll come back in three days."

"Three _days_?" I squeak. She nods. Her hand falls to her side, and I notice something strange about her skin for moment. A single flaw on a perfect body.

"I'll grab the boat then, and you'll have had enough time to find the diary. Fair?"

Impassive, she stares me down. It doesn't feel like a fair request, even though I know it is. Something about her voice just turns me off a bit. It's almost like I have no say in the matter.

_Maybe you don't._

"You can't read it. If you do, I'll know." She smiles at me and it feels like she's tucking a secret into her cheek. "See you in three days, Jackie-boy."

I don't know when she leaves. I'm not sure what direction she goes. I just sort of nod, and then throw up.

* * *

I want to know why she left Mineral Town behind. It's haunted me since this morning, since I'm not sure last night was a dream even though I know it couldn't be. I _have_ to think it was real, because it's eating at me so damn much. But after looking through all the items on the bookshelf and turning the whole room upside-down to find that diary, it's possible I imagined the whole stupid thing. It's likely, but still. My mind just won't accept it. Accepting that would be suffering this ache forever, so I've hoed my whole field to try and work off the stress that's enslaved me. I want to find that diary. I want to see her again.

"Jack? Hello?"

My head snaps up from my work and then lowers when I see it's just Ann who's spoken. "Ah. You. What do you want?"

She gets on her tiptoes and looks over my shoulder to see my field. She whistles. "_Someone's_ actually been working."

"It happens."

"I'm actually impressed. How long did this take you?"

I shrug. "Been at it since this morning."

"Well, hot damn, you just might work as a farmer after all." Ann grins and it irks me. She might've noticed because she backs off a bit from my bubble space. "Hey, so, last night. The pepper thing."

"Yeah?"

"It was uncalled for. Also, I shouldn't have given you the wine and let you make a fool of yourself." She kicks at the dirt and looks at me imploringly. "I apologize."

"I'm sorry? Is this the part where I forgive you?" I wipe the sweat from my forehead and grunt. "You're funny, Ann, you know that? Funny as hell."

Her shoulders droop and she bites her lip. "Oh, let's not be like that. Jack, you know I didn't mean it."

"I don't even care anymore."

"Uh huh. That's why you're acting like a wounded puppy?"

I bristle at her and concentrate instead on the importance of diaries and a great body. Which, sorry to say, Ann probably has neither of. Ann writing in a dairy is a mental image too funny to ignore, and as for her body, well, she covers a little too well and besides—she's Ann. Who looks at _Ann_ like that?

"I have more important things to deal with than you right now."

"Like weeds? Sheesh, you're taking this farmer thing too far." She props her chin on my shoulder and whines. "I miss the lazy old Jack!"

"Get off me, woman!"

I knock her away and, instead of pouting, Ann frowns. "Geez, you really _are_ being an ass right now. I come to apologize and get treated like cow manure."

"Yeah, well, I have to deal with important business."

"Like what? Cuz it sure as hell isn't the field you're tending."

"For your information, it's a girl!" I throw down the hoe that I don't even care about and launch into a diatribe: "I met a girl last night who needs me to do her a favor and it's bothering me! Okay?!"

For a moment, Ann goes silent. "You…" She shakes her head. "You _were_ really out of it last night. No girl would be up at that hour, anyway. Drunk fantasy?"

"No."

"Oh, come on Jack, you can't be serious—"

"Ann, just shut up and get off your soapbox."

"Why don't you pull that hoe out of your ass first?" she retorts. "For the love of God! I wanted to _apologize_."

"Apology not accepted."

"Screw you!"

"Maybe if you were as hot as Claire, I'd consider it!"

Immediately I know I've said the wrong thing. I'd hoped to explain who Claire was, what had happened last night, but instead it's almost as if Ann already knows what I'm going to say. Her lips move but form no words, and her eyes stare at me as if stunned, watching someone die.

"How could you," she whispers. "You monster."

I can't even begin to fathom the damage I've done as she slowly walks away. I don't know how to react, I'm not sure what I've even done wrong besides what's simmering on the surface. It's another crime I won't be forgiven for, and I wonder if I should start keeping track of them all.

* * *

"Look, man, I make snow cones, not miracles." Kai's little Snack Shack, for some reason, was the first place I could think of running. The traveler packs ice on a cone for a waiting Popuri, whose puffy pink hair keeps bouncing as she paces about impatiently. "Strawberry, right?"

"Mm, thank you!" She beams and begins to munch on the dessert. "Kai, where do you learn this stuff? This is so goooood!"

If I had puffy pink hair, it'd be bouncing impatiently now, too.

"Can you just, you know, fix Ann's moodiness or something?" I whine. "I don't know why she always gets _mad_ at me."

Kai laughs. "If I understood women, do you think I'd be working here? No way, bro. I'd be making some serious money off that."

Popuri tugs his sleeve and I groan inwardly. "Kai, can I get another one?"

"Sure, pretty lady, what would you like?"

She pauses and tilts her head. "What's your favorite?"

"Pineapple, no doubt."

"Pineapple then!"

Oh, for the love of—I need help with _real_ problems, and this teenage girl is too busy flirting up my friend for me to get a word in. "So anyway," I say the moment Popuri buries her face into her snow cone, "I think I made Ann jealous."

Kai raises an eyebrow. "Maybe that's a bit presumptuous, my friend."

"Well, we started fighting because she didn't believe—okay, so last night when you leave, this girl shows up at my house. Gorgeous girl."

Kai's eyebrow rises higher. "Huh. While you were a little drunk?"

"And she said she owned the farm before me and that she needed me to go find what she'd left behind. Some diary or something."

"…Why would that make Ann jealous? If anything, she probably thought you were making it all up."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you! Claire visited me last night, and if I could prove it I would."

Once again, her name wakes up something that I rarely see on anyone's face in Mineral Town. I don't know what to call it. Not anything particularly positive, anyway. "Claire. Ah." Kai nods. "Lovely girl, indeed. I met her last year."

Popuri's head snaps up from her snow cone. "Ohh, but—"

"How did you hear about her?" Kai inquires, and suddenly I feel like I'm on trial, and Kai is one chill prosecutor.

"I—I didn't! I just met her. "

"Hm. Well, let's say that's true. What did you tell Ann, exactly?"

"Oh, oh, but guys—" Kai puts a hand over Popuri's mouth and she frowns a bit.

I clear my throat. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I'm turning red. "Uh. I may or may not have said I'd consider screwing her if she was as hot as Claire?"

"_Imbécil_." He wipes his face with his hand and shakes his head. "I told you not to do anything stupid today. Did I not tell you that?"

"Yeah…"

Kai covers his face and chuckles darkly. "You're a _mistake_ magnet. That is what you are. Don't you even know who Claire is?"

No, I'm definitely turning red. "The old farm owner and possibly a former model?"

"Cliff's old girlfriend."

"Hm?" I think for a moment. "Cliff…"

"The other traveler at the Inn. Ah, that's right, you wouldn't know him." Kai draws out a slow breath. Strokes his chin in thought. "Left around the same time Claire did, so I'm told. Probably ran off together. Anyway, Cliff and Ann may or may not have almost had a thing, and, you did not hear this from me, my friend, but what you said would hurt any spurned woman."

Popuri is hopping up and down as if she's about to explode with the words she's keeping in. It amuses me, so I don't acknowledge her.

"Huh. Well, if Ann is insecure it's not like I'd _know_ about it."

Before I know it, I've been lightly whacked on the head. "Calling Ann insecure is wrong," Kai corrects me quietly. "She's no child. She was happy for Cliff, friends with Claire. But just because one can accept another's happiness, doesn't mean they can't receive your insults. You are still in the wrong here."

I'm still overcoming the shock that Kai, of all people, has _slapped_ me. Gently, but still. I could've sworn the guy was a pacifist. "Uh. So, what should I do?"

"Apologize. Though from what you've told me, it's possible you won't get forgiven." He shrugs and turns to Popuri, who's turning blue I swear from lack of talking. "You need something, sweetheart?"

She lets all the words roll out with the breath she's been holding: "He couldn't have met Claire last night, though, it's completely impossible!"

"But I did," I reply, getting more and more irritated at this town for doubting me. A little alcohol apparently goes a long way.

"Nuh uh, see, you're wrong." She shakes her head and pink flies everywhere. "See, Claire isn't here anymore."

"I know, little angel, she moved," Kai says with a smile.

But this only makes her flap her hands about more. "No, you don't understand! She's not _here_ here." Popuri stomps on the ground firmly and crosses her arms. "Didn't anyone tell you? She's dead."


	3. Chapter 3: The Ghost Arc: Pt 3

**Note: **Woo, update hurray! I really liked this chapter, though it required a subtle shift from the plot devices of previous chapters to truly introduce the meat of the arc. Thanks to all of you wonderful people who've been reviewing—I adore you all, and if I were a better person, I'd reply to all of you. Forgive me. D: So without further ado…!

DOVE'S NOCTURNE

"**The apple cannot be stuck back on the Tree of Knowledge; once we begin to see, we are doomed and challenged to seek the strength to see more, not less."**

_--Arthur Miller_

_

* * *

_**The **_Ghost _**Arc**

**JACK'S **TALE_**  
**__Part Three_

_

* * *

_

As a general rule, I pretty much avoid Popuri. Let's put it this way: if Gray is the worst of the melancholic world, Popuri is a little too high on the rainbows and sunshine spectrum. So for a moment, I have to try to stop myself from laughing as this cutesy teeny-bopper of a girl announces the woman I met last night is dead.

"Popuri, what?" Kai's brow creases into a frown, and I try to act serious as well. I still look amused, apparently, because Popuri is glaring at me. "Alright, precious, look at me. Look." His dark hands encircle her face and Popuri blushes just a bit as her eyes follow his request. "Tell me honestly. Is Claire dead?"

"Since the end of Spring." Her gaze never wavers. "They found her dead in the farmhouse. I wasn't supposed to know, but I heard Ricky and Mama talking."

Kai nods slowly. Patting her cheek, he tries to throw Popuri a casual smile. "I see. How did she die, exactly? If you don't mind telling us."

"Oh!" Here Popuri frowns a bit. "I don't know, exactly. But everyone quit talking about it real quick. I guess they didn't want it to spread any, I mean, what if the new farmer knew he'd bought a haunted farm?" It takes a moment for me to realize her finger is pointed my way. "_He_ doesn't believe me, so it doesn't matter. He won't leave."

I don't deny it. I'd believe a rock before I believed Popuri any day. Especially since the rocks around my farm saw Claire arrive that night, too.

"Thank you, angel. Here, have another snow cone on the house." She lights up like a star at the treat and Kai beckons me to the backroom as she munches away. He sighs. "I think she's serious."

"Seriously wrong, maybe?" I laugh. "Kai, look. I may have been not _all_ there last night? But I know what I saw. And that was a girl named Claire."

"Yeah, yeah, I believe you too, man." But he's not looking me in the eyes. He's still looking at the girl beyond the door. "Why would Popuri lie?"

I snort. "Attention? To make herself seem more 'mysterious' and 'sexy' to you?" I nudge him when he stares at me blankly. "Oh, come on. Did you not notice how touchy-feely you got when she said '_dead'_?"

"Popuri doesn't joke about that," Kai states. "No one, here, jokes about that. Except for city people like you." He cradles his head in his hands. "So they didn't tell me, either. She's dead."

"You don't believe me, then? You believe some hormonal little girl?" To my utter amazement, Kai walks to the window and ignores me. "I'm not blind, Kai. I know what I saw."

"You talk a lot." Kai's eyes narrow in on the sunlight, following the waves outside. "Maybe you should open your ears more than your mouth."

"Who do you—?"

"Man, your story makes no sense," Kai explains. "Look, you met Claire last night. She hasn't 'been' here, no matter if she's dead or if she's moved, since the end of Spring. Yes?"

I shrug. "Why not. Sure."

"So she comes back. Late at night. If she's not dead, she got here by boat—"

"She mentioned that!" I exclaim and suddenly my face is glowing. That's right. The girl mentioned leaving for her boat, of course, I've been so _stupid_ not to bring this up until now! "She said she had to leave, that at dawn her boat left."

Kai nods. "Then Zack will have seen her go. He handles all the boats here."

"So we can settle this easily. Alright."

I pat the traveler on the back heartily, but Kai still looks away. "One more thing, though, one problem." His fingers tap on the tabletop, casting shadows. "Why did she appear so late at night?"

"Easy. She was waiting for me, and I didn't show up until late."

"So tell me, my friend. Why didn't I see her when I dropped you off?"

I open my mouth to answer. Right then, though, Popuri waltzes in, and speaks for me: "Shouldn't you be closing soon, Kai?"

He ruffles the hair on her head. "Alright, precious. Let's all go."

It occurs to me I still don't know my answer.

* * *

Someone ransacked my room. That's my first thought upon arriving home, until I remember my frantic search this morning. I know that even if I look, nothing will appear, yet I do so anyway. I'm not surprised when my efforts fail, so when I come to the port and see Zack, his confusion at my "crazy idea I'd take a lady here so late at night" doesn't shock me either. No one's come into town since Kai arrived. No one.

"You were drunk, and that's that," Kai tells me firmly. "Just a dream." The facts don't change. Are they facts? Hell, are they real at all?

Dead. Heh, I met a dead girl. Funny thought, isn't it?

I crawl into my bed and pull the covers up to my neck. In the summer heat, I go nude, and there's really no other way you wanna go in a place without air conditioning that's this hot, and this sticky. I'm alone in this dusty place, and that damn clock won't stop ticking.

There's this clock in the corner. Why didn't I notice that before?

I don't know where it came from—hah, that Claire, probably, damn her—but the tall grandfather clock looms over the rest of the tiny farmhouse, its shadow stretching across the room and creeping up to the bed. Why don't I know where this clock came from? When I'd bought the place, didn't the realtor—the realtor had gloated over the mahogany eyesore, called it "a real antique."

"Just like that mirror," he'd added. "Beautiful old thing, from almost another time."

A complete waste. I look at the mirror for a moment, and I want to smash it into little pieces. Because of that mirror, Ann got mad at me. Because Ann got mad at me, I got drunk. Because I got drunk, I'm haunted by a dead girl.

I sit up and toss off the blankets. My hands reach down for my backpack, and I approach the mirror. And for some reason an animalistic instinct surges within me, some kind of fury I can't explain, and I bring out my axe and crash it into the glass.

…

I crashed it into the glass.

……

Shit didn't I crash it into the glass?

My reflection stares back at me. Cool, composed. My hands shake. I ease the axe down and retreat back to my bed. I turn to the window, and try not to notice the shimmering, immaculate mirror reflecting the moonlight from my window.

"Just a dream," Kai's words linger. "Just a dream."

* * *

She's shrieking. _Howling_, almost—the decibels claw at my mind, and I fight to keep them out. I can't see. Oh, oh God, everything is red, and she's screaming. I don't know if I'm running towards her or away from her. I'm not sure which direction I'm hoping for.

"**You are disappointing me**," a sharp voice echoes flatly. "**You are not doing as you have been asked.**"

And then the voice screaming is my own—something is tearing at the tendons in my muscle, shredding my soul into nothingness, and I begin to doubt I even have a soul as the world spins a harsher, bloodier red. There's a shadow there, she's lying on the ground, she's staring at me, she's been screaming but I am screaming and we both can do nothing…

"**Two days."**

I awake and no amount of sweat can cool the heat of the terror welling within me. My tongue tastes blood; my hands are at my throat. Everything has darkened.

I'm going insane. I must be going insane.

* * *

"What have you been up to?"

Karen's looking at me curiously, and I can't blame her—I haven't exactly stopped by the Supermarket too often lately. Normally I'd casually flirt with her, or give a witty retort, but I mumble, "Farming."

"Sure you're not just pissing off Ann?"

"Wow. Great customer service." I rub my eyes. Despite last night's dreams, I feel as if I haven't slept a wink. "Can I have some chocolate?"

Karen blinks. "Random."

"You're the worst shopkeeper ever."

"Not my fault the 'rents are out." Karen stretches and yawns, making me feel a little better for my own exhaustion. "Late night with Rick," she says with a wink, and I roll my eyes. "What, Jack, you jealous? A farmer like you ought to have a lot of fun…tussling in the hay." She laughs and nudges me.

I want to tell her I _am_ jealous of her night, though even I can't believe my reason why. "Just do your job for once."

"Hah! Speak for yourself, lazy boy." She shoves some chocolate bars at my face and grins when I pay her. "Not stingy today, I see! In need of comfort food?"

I don't answer her. It's weird, because normally I would. All I want to do now is go out the door, though, and walk over to the Inn to knock on Ann's door and yell at her. I want to yell at her, so that she can yell back, and something will still be normal. I need something to still be normal.

Why are my legs still shaking?

"Who is it?" Ann's voice cuts through the wood and I hesitate before replying.

"The boogeyman."

Ann cracks the door open and sighs as I come into view. "Pretty damn close, isn't it," I hear her mutter. The redhead turns her head towards me and raises an eyebrow. "Alright, make this quick. I don't want to look at your face any longer than I have to." Part of me wants to hug her for that. Good old Ann.

I open my mouth, but instead I hand the chocolates forward. This, finally, catches her attention. "Huh." She studies it as if checking for the scent of poison. "Well, this is weird."

"It's easier than saying I'm sorry," I'm compelled to say. I hesitate. "Which, by the way, I'm not saying."

Ann smirks. "Better than I expected, anyway. Come in."

Her room isn't exactly pretty: wooden and pristine and devoid of character. If it weren't for the overalls in the closet, I wouldn't even know Ann lived here. She plops herself on a bed stuffed with pillows and cocks her head.

"You can sit down if you want."

I can't help but feel like it's a trap. Like, if I sit next to Ann, some angry claws of doom will come out and grab me so that she can swat at me with her broom. This knowledge thrills me. I sit down.

"If you didn't come here to apologize, then what?" she asks. I shrug.

"I wanted to ask you things."

She laughs. "You? Jack? _Asking_ people things? Ohh, how times are a'changing."

I stare at the ceiling. I'm not even planning to get defensive. "The girl who visited me lied."

"Claire?" Her voice chills and my familiar Ann becomes something hardened and cold. "Jack, if you're going to bring this up again…"

"No, listen to me. Zack said she didn't show up that night on his boat. And Popuri said—" My tongue is clay, but somehow I form the words as they stumble out: "Claire's dead."

"You didn't know?" Immediately she softens. "Oh, Jack, I...I just thought you were being…" Her hand brushes up against my cheek and I stiffen at the strange sensation of Ann—Ann, my stupid tomboy friend, Ann—consoling me like a mother, eyes pitying me. "I thought you were speaking badly about the dead. I thought you were being, heh, well _you_." She ruffles my hair playfully.

"She visited me that night." I can see the disbelief flickering across Ann's features. After Kai and Popuri and Zack's responses, I've become numb to it. "Claire did. It didn't even occur to me that she'd be anything other than alive."

"You do know what happened, don't you?" I shake my head and Ann draws out a long sigh. "She strangled herself and clawed at her own throat. Suicide."

The bizarre nature of that stuns me. I try to imagine the confident, sexy woman from before, destroying her own life by her hands. "…Why?"

"No one knows." Her hands stroke my head gently and I close my eyes. "It was the most random thing, really. We'd begun seeing less and less of her, and then poor Clif—her boyfriend went in to check on her. He found her collapsed dead…on the…floor." The words trip over Ann's tongue and she shakes her head. "He couldn't handle it, so he left. We're all trying to be good and look past it, but you know. It's hard."

I don't know why but I'm trembling. "When she came to me, she…" This is incredibly stupid. So stupid. Sostupidstupidstupidstupid—

"Jack? Jack, why are you shaking like that, Jack--?!"

That body flickers and flashes in my memory. _"You're a sweet boy," _I can hear her velvet voice coo, and her golden hair is flowing behind her blocking out the moon and there's only her chilling blue eyes and those blood-red lips and that neck—

"Jack! Jack, seriously, stop!" I can vaguely feel Ann's arms shaking me to wake me into reality. "Jack, you're _scaring_ me!"

It repeats in my mind over and over. That single flaw on a perfect body. That one inconsistency. That beautiful neck. That…supple skin ringed with black and blue. Marks of nails. Red lines crisscrossing on perfection. "_You'll help me out, won't you?_"

"She's dead," I whisper. "Oh my God…I've talked to a dead…"

"It's all a dream, so just stop, please be your normal stupid self, this isn't funny anymore." It's only then that I realize Ann's eyes are wet. "Please."

I don't know what to do. I have no idea, I'm not even sure—but I can't go back to that farm. I refuse to let myself. I don't want…

"Let me stay in the Inn for a night," I hear myself say.

Ann's mouth drops open in a surprised O. "J-Jack, where is all this coming from?"

"Ann, can't you just give me a room?"

She blinks at me. "I, uh, well there's no space open…see, we got an old lady visiting, and you can't share that room without an uproar…Kai, maybe, but…"

My body feels weak. It's as if my legs have run a thousand miles and my mind can think of nothing but the predator chasing me all this way. I collapse on Ann's bed as much to my surprise as to hers, but I simply couldn't care enough to struggle off the comfy blankets.

"Er… Papa isn't going to like this, Jack." Through my peripheral vision, I can see her cheeks lightly flushing.

"So don't say anything," I mumble, and I bury my face in her worn-out pillows. They're soft, smell like strawberry. I wonder briefly if that's the type of shampoo Ann uses.

"You're a real piece of work, you silly boy." Her hands tangle in my hair as she takes off my hat and kisses my forehead. "Sleep well. Everything's going to be okay." Almost maternally, she takes my canvas backpack and shoes from me and tucks me in. Those gentle hands pat my head. "Don't dream any naughty dreams."

"As if they'd be about you…"

She smirks. "If they were, I'd have to smack you."

I'm not sure when I fall asleep. But when I wake up in the middle of the night, I can feel the weight of a tiny girl beside me, the loose folds of her T-shirt brushing against my skin. We're back-to-back, like siblings, and yet, as I study the small of her back, and the way those fiery curls tumble freely across her shoulders… She snores gently in her sleep and I smile to myself. Silly Ann, not even ladylike with her mouth shut. I kind of want to hold her. I kind of want to thank her, somehow, for letting me stay here.

I turn to the window and blissful curtains keep the moonlight from view. No nightmares. No loneliness.

I lay my head back on the pillow, and never before have I known happier slumber.


	4. Chapter 4: The Ghost Arc: Pt 4

**Note: **Doot-de-doo, updating early. :D Thanks for the support, guys! This story is only getting darker, and the first arc is almost coming to its end. Of course, other arcs are to follow, other stories to explore. And they'll be about other characters! This chapter ate up my whole night yesterday, and I wanted to get this thing out onto the internet ASAP. Hopefully you'll like it as much as I liked writing it!

DOVE'S NOCTURNE

"**Death is someone you see very clearly with eyes in the center of your heart: eyes that see not by reacting to light, but by reacting to a kind of a chill from within the marrow of your own life.**"

--_Thomas Merton_

* * *

**The **_Ghost _**Arc**

**JACK'S **TALE_**  
**__Part Four_

* * *

When I awake, the room's bright, as a blithe Ann pushes her hand-sewn curtains aside to greet the new day. "Wake up, sleepyhead!" she announces, and I realize she must have been awake for a while, since she's already slipped into those overalls she loves so much. "You're going to miss breakfast if you don't get up and shower soon." Her hands pull me from my resting position and shove me to the bathroom. "And give me those clothes of yours, I can wash 'em real quick," she adds.

Tch, Ann. Hostess to the core. "I thought you hated my boxers."

"The thought of you without them is grosser." Ann smirks. "Now, shoo shoo, go clean yourself."

It's a little weird, as I go into the bathroom and peel my clothes from my body then toss them out a crack in the door for Ann. Her snide comments about my "man stench" make me smile a bit, and the pitter-patter of her feet against the wood as she leaves also make me happy.

It feels, I don't know. Kind of fun. Like we're playing house.

The shower water runs all over me, and I blink for a moment as I realize I'm using Ann's bathing products. I was indeed correct: it's strawberry shampoo. The soap is lavender, and I can see a delicate little razor perched on the soap bar that, I can assure you, I know not to use. I'm going to smell like a woman and for some reason that doesn't bother me.

"How do you like your eggs?" I hear her holler from behind the door. "Scrambled?"

"Uh, sure."

"What? Can't hear you, shower is loud."

"Sure, that's fine!"

"Alright, sunny-side-up it is."

I laugh despite myself. Yeah, this is fun. A lot of fun, actually. Not the showering, I mean, but…feeling like you're living with someone. Even when I did live with people before, it didn't feel…

When I finish, I'm using a fluffy pink towel—one that's surprisingly feminine for Ann—to dry my hair. I grab a toothbrush labeled EXTRA with a cute little tag (just like Ann, preparing for anything, heh). A quick rap on the door alerts me that Ann is outside, and she shouts, "I washed your clothes but I can't get the grass stains out, sorry! I'll leave them here, I'll be downstairs when you're ready."

And it's true: they're warm and clean, done by the fastest washer in town.

Ann's scooping up her plate as I enter the kitchen and she flashes me a brilliant smile. "It's just us today," she informs me, grabbing a seat. "Everyone else is sleeping late, even Daddy."

"So why'd you wake me up?"

She shrugs. "Eating alone is boring."

Her honesty makes me laugh. "Uh huh. By the way, nice towel."

"Pink suits you more, I think."

"Nah, keep it." I chuckle and slip into the chair opposite her. I scratch my head. "Ahh, so. Last night."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Indeed. Last night."

"So." I grin mischievously. "How was your first time sleeping with a man?"

She thwaps me on the head, right on cue. "You jerk, I hate you!" And then she laughs. "But if _you're_ any indicator, highly disappointing."

We laugh like old friends as I eat the sunny-side-up eggs, which are fabulous and nothing short of perfect—nothing short of Ann, really. I wonder if "old friends" is an accurate description. After all, I've only known the girl for a few weeks. Yet, it feels accurate. I let the phrase play in my mind, and then I frown. "Friends"…is it as accurate as I want it to be, though?

"You." She points at me and waggles her finger. "You have a farm to tend to."

"Oh, yeah?"

"A big farm. With…weeds and stuff. And whiny animals!"

"Any whinier than you?"

"_Much_ whinier. They don't make their own meals." She laughs. "So you should get out soon."

I cringe a bit at the idea of my farm. That hell. That place where I lost the beautiful shred of normalcy that I can indulge in, right now, with Ann. In the world that I know to be real, and right, Ann's comment is perfectly true. But I'm not sure if this safe world is the only one anymore.

"I don't want to go."

"Pfft. Lazy."

"No, really. I don't want to." I shuffle my feet and look away from Ann. "I like being here."

"Huh. My hosting skills are officially awesome. I'm stealing people from their homes now." She grins and I try to smile back. I'm failing; hers slowly fades the longer she stares at me. "Hey, you okay?" Her hands gently cover mine. I shudder.

"I just…" I swallow back my insecurities and look at her. "You have pretty eyes," I blurt out instead.

For a moment her lips twist in a confused frown, and then her eyes sparkle with amusement. "Haha...er, well. Thank you?"

I shake my head and feel my palms sweating. I can't tell if it's fear of what lies at my farm, or if I'm just terrified of losing this moment, this great, beautiful moment in which Ann is laughing as I compliment her eyes. I don't want the daylight to darken.

"I'm a real dick," I say suddenly. This startles Ann into a laugh, and I insist, "Seriously, I'm not joking—it's not that funny! Ann, I really _am_ a dick."

"You really are," she agrees, wiping her eyes from her laughter. "Where did _that_ come from?"

"Nothing." I stare at my eggs smiling up at me with bacon. "I just might not ever admit that again."

"I could see that, Mr. Stubbornface." She ruffles my hair and for some reason I can feel my heart tugging within me. It hurts. God, why does it hurt?

"You're not a dick, Ann," I murmur. "You're, well, pretty much usually right." I gulp back my terror and concentrate instead on what I'm scared I'll never get to say. Never get to fully _feel_, at least. "Ann, I…" My voice stops and I can't force myself to say the next line. I grab her hands instead.

She stares up at me curiously. "Jack, what are you doing?"

It's not gone, but already I'm missing this moment. I want to stay here with Ann forever. I want this sweet, wonderful girl to protect me always. I'm afraid I'm going to start crying—whether from fear, or from the bliss of the reprieve I've been granted, I'm not sure.

"Ann," I repeat, and I think maybe saying her name is enough. "Ann."

"What's going on? I don't understand—"

The door to the Inn slams open, and we can hear it echo even from the little kitchen where we're seated. Ann sighs before getting up to greet the new guest, giving me a pointed look suggesting we-will-discuss-this-later as she scurries off. I cover my face in my hands and groan. What am I doing? What am I even thinking? If it weren't for all this stupid, baseless fear, I probably wouldn't even feel this way. I wouldn't look at Ann and desperately want…

"What do you mean?!" Ann shrieks and I immediately stand and run to the lobby. To my annoyance, it's Popuri who's shown up, panting like a Labrador Retriever as Ann covers her mouth. "I…I just can't believe that…"

"It's true, though, it's true!" Popuri huffs.

"What's true?" I dare to ask, and they both send me dark looks. Immediately I become defensive. "Wh-what?"

"How can you not know?" Ann mutters, and I have more reason to hate Popuri as Ann's blue eyes darken with disappointment. "I see why you didn't want to go to the farm now."

"You terrible, terrible farmer!" Popuri accuses me. She has the nerve to stick her tongue out at me and put her hands on her hips. "How could you?! You're lucky we don't consider this a crime, but if it were Ricky, I'd have never forgiven him for it."

"What did I do?" I state, and the dread in those syllables finally convinces Ann to grab my arm and drag me out the door, leaving Popuri behind.

"Come see what you've done," Ann whispers.

* * *

Death has a scent. Your body reacts to it: leaves you breathless, reminds you that invincibility doesn't exist and with each step you're decaying. In my barn, I see what appears to be a normal collection of animals—my horse, my cows, my sheep—all sleeping late in the day. And then that stench fills my nose, and I am overcome as I realize there's no sleep heavier than that of death.

"They're dead," I breathe.

"They're dead," Ann intones.

I run over to Millie, my first cow, and I wrap my hands around her head, patting her in a way that always caused her to awaken with a smile. "C'mon, girl, look at me," I say, and despite myself I can feel tears pricking at my eyes as I realize she never will. I run to each animal. I beg them to look at me.

Dead. All of them. Death surrounds me.

_The final day. _That knowledge hits me squarely in the eyes and I blink, suddenly quaking all over. My fairy tale is a lie. The happiness I've been feeling all this time is an illusion I've built for myself to escape my terrifying reality.

Ann watches me with a strange form of pity as I crumple down and ram my fists against the floor. And again. And again. A sob rips from my throat and I scream, "Damn it all! What did I ever do…what did I do to earn such a…"

"This is what you get for not caring for those who matter," Ann admonishes me despite my tears.

"What didn't I care for?!" I shout back, whirling on her. "I fed the stupid beasts! I brushed them, I talked to them, I adored them! Don't you dare tell me what my faults are, you high and mighty piece of shit!" My voice cracks under the pressure of my tears, and I squeeze my eyes shut to contain them as I let out a single, agonized cry. It resounds in this room of corpses, and I can hear the terror seizing me singing with each rebounding echo.

The final day. The final day. That night Claire arrived, I'd slept just fine. That next night, the nightmares arrived. And this night, I'd spent beside Ann, safe and…no, not safe. Just hidden from the fate befalling me.

This leaves tonight. The ghost is coming tonight.

I have no diary to give her.

"Jack, for Goddess's sake, compose yourself." Ann's hands reach for me and I swat them away. "Why are you—I don't understand, why are you acting so strange lately?" Anger laces her words but beneath them I can hear a whisper of my own fear.

"Look around you, Ann. Just look, damn you!"

I shove over the mangers and let the hay spill all over the floor. Ann's eyes widen and I evade her as she lunges forward to hold me, knocking over the rakes, the water troughs, everything, venting this emotion I'm not able to explain.

"You're psychotic," she whispers, white. "This whole Claire thing. Last night. And this. You're…you're insane, Jack."

I swerve to face her, and her doubt stings for the first time. "Oh, I'm _sorry_," I snarl, coming towards her and gripping her by her shoulders, "am I the only one who is aware this whole town is going batshit insane?! Oh, is this room _not_ full of dead animals? Is Claire _not_ dead after all? Am I actually some lunatic who came crying to your room last night, Ann?! Is that all I _am_!" My hands fasten on her as I shake her senseless. I want to throw her to the floor, run my hand through her fragile flesh, force her to understand and breathe my own sick reality. She bites her lip, for once not strong and in control, but a scared little girl with tears welling in her eyes.

"I don't understand…"

"I fucking don't either! Thank Goddess we agree on something!" I push her roughly aside and tighten my hands into fists, ready to hit something, anything, watch something bleed. "Damn, damn, damn, damn…" I grab a rake and hurl it at the wall, the metal hitting the wood with a satisfying clink. "Damn it all!"

Ann blinks her eyes dry and I can hear her voice quietly rising above the silence. "Jack. Stop. Just stop." I grab the rake and ram it again, and again, and _Goddess_ it feels nice, feels _liberating_ to be powerful over something. I lift it over my shoulder and two capable arms hold me back. "Stop," Ann repeats, this time firmly. The girl has disappeared and a woman has replaced her, one whose voice can shame me. "This solves nothing."

"Nothing can solve it," I say bitterly.

"That's not true," Ann interrupts me. "You wouldn't be this mad at me if you didn't want me to _do_ something." She takes in a steady breath. "What would you like me to do, Jack? Let me at least know that."

Tremors snake up and down my body and I finally drop the stupid rake and shudder. It clatters to the ground. "Believe me," I beg. Pathetically, I beg. It's nothing more than a child asking his mother to see the same monster he does under the bed. "Oh, God, Ann, it's not hard! Please…for the sake of what sanity I have left."

"What am I believing?" Ann insists.

"Believing in ghosts," I say, and while the words are alien to me, they calm me. "Tell me Claire showed up at my house three days ago. Tell me there's a diary in this God-forsaken house of mine with her name on it. Tell me she's haunting me." Tell me I'm not insane.

Her lips move soundlessly and I can see it in her eyes: Ann doesn't believe. She never will.

"Diary?" she murmurs. And then I begin to wonder, as she covers her mouth and shuts her eyes, if I have misread her gaze. "Jack, why would you mention a diary?"

"Claire asked for her diary back," I reply. "That's the whole reason she came. For some reason, that's why I've been haunted, why my animals are all dead. If I don't give her what she wants, who knows what the hell she'll do to me tonight. It's the final day."

She nods her head like a puppet, and I'm not sure which one of us is holding the strings. "I…maybe I actually can help you. At the very least, I can give you what you need." She composes herself with a shaky breath and stares at me head-on. "That diary. I own it."

"…You what?"

"I own it," she repeats, and I feel a chain loosening within me as she continues. "I helped clean up the farmhouse after Claire's passing. I found her diary. I haven't read it," she clarifies, "but when I saw her name, I knew it was tasteless to leave it in the hands of the village. I was going to give it to Cliff, but." Ann shrugs. "He's gone."

"Give it to me," I half-demand, half-implore. I'm aware that I must look ridiculous, almost groveling at Ann's feet at the kindness she's offered. "Please, Ann…"

"It doesn't feel right," she mumbles.

"Goddamn it, Ann, I'm going crazy! Give the damn thing to me!" I fight the urge to slap her. I fight the urge to cry more than I've stupidly cried already.

"Contain yourself!" she snaps, but her voice wavers. "Good God, Jack, you're barely human."

"Give it to me," I beg again. "Please, Ann…"

Her shoulders droop. Sadness swirls in those misty blue eyes as Ann gazes at me, and I wonder if she's thinking of earlier, when we shared eggs and laughed and I told her those same eyes were beautiful. It feels like a year has passed, and yet I know it's only been an hour.

"I will give it to you," she speaks in the faintest of whispers, "if it will bring back my friend."

She slinks out the back, and the door shudders on its hinges as I watch her silhouette pass. The sunlight pouring through the crack in the doorway blinds me, and I wish, wildly, for darkness to fall. I close my eyes and I see Claire's blood-red lips, and for a moment, I don't care what that diary brings. My death, my freedom, nothing matters.

Ann's right. I'm barely human. I look a man, but I feel empty now; if you touched me, I'd surely disappear. I try to remember happiness and it feels like a movie I watched long ago, one whose plot I've forgotten but that I knew I must've loved, once. My humanity is slipping. I've become attached to nothing but my own fear.

Perhaps I'll haunt someone, too, when I pass.

Heh. Perhaps I'm haunting Mineral Town now.


End file.
